


Man In The Window

by saltyplaydough



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyplaydough/pseuds/saltyplaydough
Summary: Aaron doesn’t know if this is a typical reaction to losing the love of your life, and if it is, why no one’s bothered to warn him about it.or Robert haunts Aaron even though he's not dead because they're that extra
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42





	Man In The Window

Aaron hears the main door shut for the second time that morning and breaths. Liv’s finally left for college, then. He’s been waiting in bed for hours now, hoping to avoid the edging-on-pushy questions about his plans for the day and the looks that come with them. Maybe it’s a bit mad to be hiding from his little sister in his own home, but Aaron hadn’t felt up to pretending today.

He’d had a bit of a shock waking up in this bed. Aaron’s not sure why he decided to trail back up the stairs with his pillow and duvet in the middle of the night, but his sleep-foggy brain wasn’t prepared to wake up to the empty expanse of sheets in front of him. Turning on his other side and exposing the cold length of his back to the phantom shifts of the bed behind him hadn’t been much better, so he’s spent the rest of the morning staring up at the ceiling and picking at the jagged piece of skin sticking out of the base of his thumbnail just for something to do, and waiting out the sounds of kids and breakfasts and life carrying on downstairs.

The thought of that, of life carrying on with no hope or desire from him to catch up to it, presses down hard on his chest. It’s unbearable, this thing that’s taken over him. He feels it balloon up behind his ribs some days, the strain of it as it pushes up against everything inside of him and stretches his skin thin, causing static to run through the hairs on his arms and send him into fits of restlessness. On other days, the balloon’s already burst and he’s left hollow and numb, stinging from the blow.

He lets go of the pillow he’s been hugging under his chin, placing it back on the other end of the bed and rolling his body off the edge.

Right on cue, Aaron hears the humming. The sound is coming through the door of the ensuite, just as it always did—echoey from bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom walls. It’s something familiar, something off the Top 40 probably, but he can’t quite place it. He’s never usually bothered enough to find out before, would just press his mouth against Robert’s shoulder on his way to piss as Robert continued to hum through his morning routine of shaving and primping and slathering on whatever overpriced product he insisted his skin absolutely needed. He feels bad not knowing, now.

Aaron waits for the sound to start fading before he walks in. Turns out it’s not just the dead who haunt. He thinks it’s that his senses can’t quite make sense of the Robert-shaped pits that have been dug out and has to fill in the gaps with impressions of a man who’s no longer there. Aaron doesn’t know if this is a typical reaction to losing the love of your life, and if it is, why no one’s bothered to warn him about it.

:::

Aaron never looks too long at them—the visions or hallucinations or whatever they are. Not after the first couple of times he’d watched them move around the way Robert would, too stunned to notice how there’s something not quite right—too muted, too flighty—about them. He also doesn’t like the way they disappear into nothing seconds later and the way his heart is too thick to get it’s not real, that he’s not actually watching Robert slip away again and again.

He wonders if they’ll ever leave for good, and how he’ll feel if they do.

:::

Aaron brushes his teeth while he waits for the bathtub to fill. He doesn’t use the tub often, and hasn’t used it once since the arrest. He’s come to spend as little time in this room as he can, really, only coming in here for a change of clothes and a quick wash. He’s even got all his bathroom stuff strewn across the sink countertop for easy access, away from Robert’s fancy shower gels and lotions in the bathroom cabinet.

It’s not a fool-proof system. He’ll catch himself petting at the few jumpers of Robert’s he’s snuck into his side of the closet, or he’ll be searching for something stashed in the back of the bathroom cabinet and lose a minute or ten breathing in Robert’s aftershave instead, and it’ll be like every wall he was foolish enough to start putting up gets ripped down.

This space... it’s so much _theirs_ that he can’t carry the weight of being in here on his own. But it’s still the closest he feels to home, however much that home feels like a burnt out husk right now. In here, the life they shared still lingers. Echoes of them, still exist. And that means something when the world outside wants to go on like nothing’s changed.

:::

Aaron sits back in the tub a little too quickly and sends thin streams of water down the sides. He’s careful not to look at the creaking toilet seat to his right, and stares down instead at the mid-morning light reflecting off of still moving water and leaving rippling slashes of white lines down his calves.

Robert would bring two beers in here when he got bored waiting for Aaron to be done soaking. He’d sit right there to his right, with his legs crossed and the closed lid of the toilet seat creaking under him, and they would talk about nothing until the water got too cold and Aaron would start to lose feeling in his pruny fingertips.

Nothing important got said during those chats. On the surface, it was all village gossip and whether or not they thought the shower head was broken. But more than anything it was an excuse to sink into each other’s voices at the end of the day and soak in the way they reverberated through this little room that was theirs alone.

Aaron liked how their individual habits merged in the tight space of this bathroom. They weren’t small men, but in here they moved in synchrony and without colliding—not unless they wanted to. He liked to imagine their bodies had their own secret language, anticipating and making way for each other without a word spoken between them.

Funny how you can think you know someone inside and out and be struck dumb by them in the end.

Aaron wouldn’t have been able to give them up like that. Every extra second with Robert would’ve been worth it and he’d have clung on to him with everything he had, the way he did a lifetime ago when they only existed behind walls and he thought what they had could only come alive in the most embarrassingly hopeful corners of his mind. Because this? The love that they share? Their life? It wasn’t optional for him. He hadn’t thought it was optional for Robert either.

 _I want messed up, with you_ , he’d promised him once.

 _Well?_ _This is as messed up as it gets mate, and you’ve checked out._

 _That’s not fair, Aaron_ , the Robert to his right sighs, three finger ‘round the neck of a beer bottle.

 _Isn’t it?_ Aaron finally acknowledges him, still careful not to look _. Prove me wrong_ , _then_ , he begs.

He's met with silence.

It’s an empty win, what with Robert not being here to defend himself and soothe away the hurt. It’s also not a fair win, but there’s a lot that’s not fair here so Aaron doesn’t bother feeling too bad about it.

Aaron rubs the back of a wet hand across his eyes. “I miss you. So much, Rob.” These words, he says out loud. It’s been months since he’s addressed Robert like this outside of his head, and even though he’s not there to hear it, the realisation makes his voice come out sounding thin and cracked through.

 _I know_ , Robert promises. _I miss you too_.

Aaron laughs and it come out mean. _Do ya?_

 _Don’t do that_ , Robert says, sounding angry this time. _You know it’s true, I_ know _you do_.

And Aaron supposes this Robert _does_ know, what with him living in his head and all.

He’s had enough of indulging in pointless one-man back and forths, he decides, and turns towards the toilet seat, keeping his eyes fixed on the prison issue maroon jumper as he watches it dissolve.

 _I love you so much,_ he hears, right before he slides fully underwater, and he shakes his head against it like it’ll make that voice sound less choked up. _Never forget that_.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! You can also find me on tumblr at [spamela-hamderson](https://spamela-hamderson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
